Reid scrubs a hand over his jaw, his five o’ clock shadow dangerously close to beard status for a guy that’s always impeccably clean shaven. Glancing at the time on the corner of his computer screen, he squints, as if not comprehending the digits. Only when he takes off his glasses to rub his eyes does it click that the tiny numbers were probably blurred out and swimming to where he couldn't even make them out.
“Fifteen hours.” Jerking my attention towards the hostile voice, I find Hunter leaning beside one of the open dining room doors.
Arms crossed and jaw clenched tight, I’m impressed that he was able to grit out the words so that they were even discernable. He looks more pissed off than usual,and the part of me that I managed to bore into a coma ages ago perks up her ears, itching for a fight after so much down time.
“That explains a lot,” Reid murmurs, tucking his bottle of eye drops back into his pocket and doing a cursory scan of our progress before he releases a breathy laugh of disbelief, shaking his head. Turning my way, he smiles. “If we crash hard and fully recoup before another deep dive, we could have this done in a week, if that. Depends on how long we sleep tonight.”
I’m pretty sure I forget how to breathe for a second. “That’s four days ahead of schedule. We’re not only going to actually pull this off, we’re going to do itearly?!How’s that even possible? What with the side project, and Jonathan going A.W.O.L.-”
Hunter makes some weird noise between a curse and a sound of disgust. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, you’re going to pass out for a solid day. Maybe two.” Turning the full weight of his glare on Reid, he ensures every word out of his mouth is saturated in condemnation. “Eleven days of this madness. She’s barely slept, eaten anything besides what we’ve forced down her throat, or spent time with heractualmates. The second she wakes up, she’s back here with you, only for you to see how far you can push her before she reaches the point of collapse. Fuck, anyone with eyes can see that even if it’s a subconscious thing, she’s refusing to shift out of some sort of twisted sense of loyalty to you.” Eyeing him up and down, he turns away with a scoff. “And gods only know why when you sure as shit don’t deserve it.”
Painful silence follows his brutal accusation, but the worst part is that Reid refuses to meet my eye, making it really hit home how alone I suddenly am in this room. He doesn’t say a word to defend or explain himself, just quietly closes his laptop and tucks it under his arm as he stands up. “I’m going to drive over to Jonathan’s, make sure that he isn’t dead and is only ignoring us after the hostage scare. I’ll see you whenever you make it down here tomorrow and update you on how it went then.”
Then he simply... walks away, like it’s so easy to. We both know that Hunter’s missing the mark because Reid isn’t forcing me to do anything. I’m as invested in the project as he is, hyper-focusing on things by nature long before I ever met him. And yeah, maybe we’re torturing ourselves, desperately trying to cram in as much time together as possible while we can, but it’s because we know. We know that as soon as this is done, it’s the end of the last thing remaining between us, and we’ll be forced to face the growing rift between us that we’re trying to ignore for another hour, another day. Rather than drag it out, though, we're self-sabotaging, too obsessive to wait when we can feel everything slipping through our fingers like sand, desperately clinging to what we have while we still can.
I hate him, just a little bit, for being the first person to break through my defenses and remind me why I built those walls in the first place.
Yet no matter how pathetic this entire thing makes me feel, I’m not going to give up on him. I confessed to Reid once that all I ever wanted was someone that would stick around, even if things were hard. That refused to abandon me even if I pushed them away because I was scared. I’m many things, but I’m not a hypocrite. Reid’s pushing me away out of a sense of self-preservation, but he likes me; I’m not dense enough to pretend otherwise. Things are hard, and they’re only going to get worse before they get better, if they ever even do. I can’t expect him to fight for me if I’m not willing to do the same. And right now, Reid Hawthorne needs someone to convince him that everything’s going to be okay when it’s all falling apart around him, that there’s something worth wading through the rubble for instead of simply letting it crush him.
He feels like he’s losing his brothers to their beasts and to me, almost lost his home, might lose his job depending on how this trip across the country goes; the only sure thing he has left is himself. It’s no surprise that he’s clinging to that final lifeline, and I don’t fault him for it. I only wish that he could see that he isn’t losing anything, he’s gaining someone that’s willing to fight all of the battles that he isn’t ready to, someone that’s as afraid of losing everyone important to him as he is.
Yet I don't have the first clue how to fix any of it. I don't have much experience with social connections in the first place, and this star-crossed lovers bullshit is way above my pay grade.
“Sabrina.” Hunter’s voice is a gruff whisper that morphs into a growl before he drives his fist into the wall, making me jump.
For a brief second as he draws his fist from the plaster, he doesn’t look angry, just... sad, and I sort of hate him for that, too. He appointed himself my bodyguard of the day, made me feel like shit, and now is looking at me with something dangerously close to pity. That perpetually hard glint in his dark green eyes is his only saving grace, counteracting the brief softness enough that I can convince myself that I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Primarily, though, I hate him for seeing exactly how much all of this is killing me and shaking his head as if he’s disappointed, like he has any right to measure me against some invisible standard he created and then decide that I didn’t live up to it.
Huffing, he turns on his heel. “Come on.”
Warring with myself, my curiosity eventually wins out. Better getting into an argument than sitting here having a pity party.
Rising to my feet, I cross the room, and he patiently waits before gesturing to the left. He doesn’t give me his back to stride ahead, leaving me to chase after him. He keeps his steps measured, ensuring that the entire walk down the hallway and towards the stairs, I remain by his side. Not above, not behind; equal. It’s such a subtle thing, so easily missed for anyone not reading the cues, but my wolf actually pouts, bringing my attention to the silent effort. It’s like shewantshim to piss her off so that she has a reason to lash out, but he failed to rise to the challenge. Me? I recognize it for the respect that it’s meant to be, and a sad smile has me glancing up at the ceiling for a minute, blinking back sudden tears.
I’m burning out. Things will be better after some sleep.
Sure, he’s backed off since I nearly killed Damian, but he’s gone out of his way to treat me with respect, taking it upon himself to guard me in his friend’s absence since he doesn’t trust any of the Hawthornes. It’s a little sweet, a lot infuriating, because he’s spent the last two weeks here as an overbearing asshole with semi-honorable intentions.
“Where are we going?”
Most of the others are out doing... I wrack my overtired brain, but all I get are blips of muffled sentences as I was staring at line after line of code. Watching the Aldervale pack? Increasing security on the property after pissing off Stonewood? Grocery shopping?
Fuck, I need a nap and to check my spreadsheet of all of the packs and where we’re at with them.
All I get is an annoyed grunt, but I figure it out quickly enough. We stop outside of Emmy’s room, and he pounds on the door before reaching into his back pocket.
Luca answers the door, his blue tipped, onyx hair mussed from, well, I know exactly what. The scent of sex saturates the air so thick I’m practically choking on it. None of us have seen much of Emmy or her new mates during their honeymoon stage of ‘getting to know each other.’ It’s been good in the respect that I really couldn’t handle any more with my already overfilled plate, but it hits me like a ton of bricks how I was simply pulling a Reid. Imissmy friend, and I’m happy for her, but I was subconsciously erecting a wall to prepare myself for losing her.
I’m not used to feeling sad, let alone this often. I’m trained in stowing everything away in a little box to deal with when I have the emotional bandwidth, enforcing my personal boundaries with an iron fist. People are too fickle to let my emotional state hinge on their actions, so I process on my terms when I’m in the proper headspace to do so. I’m not the girl that’s hung up on if someone likes me or not, driven to reckless decisions because I’m upset. I’m okay, always, because the only thing I can count on other people for is to let me down.
Yet if Kaige is to be believed, maybe I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy, isolating myself to ensure I was lonely and miserable in a misguided, subconscious attempt to feed the void so my wolf wouldn’t die.
Hunter addresses Luca, opening up his wallet and pulling out a hundred dollar bill. “I need to borrow your mate for an hour.”
I think the only one surprised that he instantly got decked in the face is Hunter.
Staggering back, he rubs his jaw with murder in his eyes before I watch the tiny little light click on and they widen in repentant horror. Releasing a muttered flurry of curses, he peers over Luca’s shoulder to Emmy, currently surrounded by three of her other mates, all glaring at Hunter like they’re debating if they can get a swing in too before he pulls the alpha card and takes them down. Doing a mental tally, I note Maddox and Bellamy are missing. The first is no surprise; after the way he annihilated Victor and his inner circle without breaking a sweat, I was the one to suggest Slade coerce him into helping with Thatcher since our first plan failed. And Bellamy...
You’re not dumb, you’re just tired. Think, Sabrina. Bellamy... Thatcher, that’s it. Nathan said it was Thatcher’s men that escorted me out of the station before I realized they were fakes and put their wolves to sleep. So wherever the guys are at right nowisabout that, and they enlisted Emmy’s mates for help.
